


The Winding of the Wyrm

by Bonfoi



Series: the original The Silver Snitch stories [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, PostWar, Romance, TSS, The Silver Snitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:37:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/pseuds/Bonfoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco’s been kidnapped and Harry’s not having any of it!  He doesn’t like to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winding of the Wyrm

**Author's Note:**

> This was one my first stories and it only had a short life on TSS before I pulled and decided to tinker with it.

~§¤§~

**  
_  
Disclaimer:   
_   
** The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.

This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

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“Malfoy, ye’d best be livin’ or I’ll ‘ave words wit’ yer ghostie!” The boots that had been clomping up the stairs before were now nudging into Draco’s bruised ribs. A moan of pain slipped past his lips, even as he fought to catch it.

Another voice became clearer. “Oi! No need for that!” A body crashed down next to Draco. He felt the impact as they narrowly missed him. “Ungh! Now, why is it everybody just drops me wherever?” The other footsteps receded, and then became muffled behind the now closed door.

The voice was familiar. Slightly husky, with overtones of boarding school. And, as the door slammed once again, it started muttering in Latin. Definitely, a boarding school brat.

Suddenly, a chuckle and some scraping noises hit his ears. Draco didn’t have the strength to turn his head let alone open his eyes to find out what was going on. He just wanted to sink back into the oblivion those damn boots had jostled him out of.

“You know, for someone being rescued, you don’t show much enthusiasm.” The voice was right by his left ear. Yet, even with incentive, he couldn’t move. “That’s all right. I’ll bet you only want to fade away now, don’t you?” Gentle hands were patting and touching, searching for the myriad bruises, cuts, and broken bones; they were finding each and every one without fail. 

A breath of air carried his protest, “Please…don’t…hurts…” So lightly, he barely felt it, a kiss ghosted across his lips. 

“Love…Wouldn’t hurt you if I could avoid it, ever.” The voice held such tenderness. Draco didn’t remember hearing anything like that in his life. The hands hadn’t stopped seeking out his pains as the voice spoke. Finally, they stopped their circuit of his abused body.

“Oh, you poor… _Whyte Wyrm…_ ” The other’s body was draped over and around Draco. The disorienting tug-behind-the-navel feeling of a port-key activating was the last thing he knew.

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“So…will he be up and about soon or what?”

This voice was too abrasive and too loud for Draco’s abused sensibilities. He’d have to wake up and make it stop. But, his lovely dream…

“You’re a damn nuisance, Shacklebolt!” The voice from before was there. Still low and throaty, it soothed his frazzled nerves, almost lulling him back into his comfortable dream.

“If you’d…only…ask…me…” Before the last syllable was out, a cool rim was against his lips. From the smell and taste of it, there was a honey-based potion nicely chilled in it. He gulped it down without much ado. “Ahh…thanks…” His voice was still thready, but, it would do for the time being. Now for his recalcitrant eyes; they still wanted to stay shut against the world.

“Don’t open them just yet, Draco,” the voice said. “Let me close the blinds a bit. The light might be too much for you yet.” He heard the sound of blinds being drawn, the shuffling of feet and furniture. “There! When you’re ready, you can try prying those lids up.” The humor in the voice was evident; he felt the smile as if it were against his lips.

At first, he wasn’t even certain he’d opened his eyes. The blurs in front of him didn’t seem to be sharpening until a very professional hand, attached to someone he knew very well, came near with some drops. 

“Mr. Malfoy, these drops will help you adjust to the light.” After a couple of them in each eye, and a few blinking false starts, Draco could make out Severus Snape and Kingsley Shacklebolt on either side of his bed. The dim light didn’t allow for much else.

“Now, Mr. Malfoy, can you tell us what you remember?” Still as abrasive as ever, Shacklebolt’s voice dug into Draco’s ears, pounding against his brain. “You’ve been missing for four months. We want answers.”

Draco winced with each word thrown at him. His eyes closed without his volition, trying to shut out the infernal braying. He wasn’t ready for this yet; he might never be fit for it after the months he’d spent in those lunatics’ hands. Then, he felt that gentle touch again, soothing his brow and the voice was murmuring nonsense above him. He felt himself falling back towards his dream…his wonderful dream…

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_“You insufferable prat!!! **chuckle** I’ll get you!!!”_

_“Really, and how will you ‘get’ me, hmmm?” Draco lay draped over a very warm, very comfortable body. He wiggled his fingers over the ticklish ribs of his lover. Small ripples of motion moved the covers as he fine-tuned his finger-play._

_“Draa…aaa…cccoooo!” huffed the voice, still hidden under a small pile of pillows._

_They were cuddled on a large antique four-poster, probably vintage Henry the Eighth, hung with heavy velvet curtains of midnight blue. The pillows and sheets were of blue silk, with what looked like a silver and gold crest of some kind embroidered on the hems._

_The hangings weren’t drawn completely, so he could see dust motes lazily drifting in what looked like late afternoon sunshine. The light also illuminated his lover’s body. A very fit tan torso, covered with small, healed scars just above the heart, and a curious tattoo on the left pectoral first drew his eyes. Then, as he glanced upwards, he traced the curve of his throat under the pillows where he was still hiding. He’d marked that neck well last night, but, it seemed that he’d missed a spot or two…_

_Maneuvering himself further onto that luscious body, Draco stopped tickling and began pecking butterfly kisses and licking at those intriguing scars. A rumbling groan vibrated against his chest. The pile of pillows shifted as…_

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“Malfoy!! Oi, Malfoy!!!” Yet another unwanted voice intruded into his dreamtime. Only this voice was easier to place. “If you don’t wake that poncy arse up soon, you’ll be too ripe for even the compost heap!”

“Weasley, shove off!” groused a sleepy Draco. Prying one bleary eye open, “Can’t you see I died and only want to be resting in peace?” 

“Well, be that as it may, insufferable git that you are, we can’t have that now, can we?” Ron Weasley stood over his bed, grinning from ear-to-ear manically. He’d have bounced on it too, if he wasn’t under pain of death. “I promised your boyfriend that I wouldn’t muss you too much, so, get up! You can leave today.” With those sentiments, he ripped the covers from the hospital bed, barely avoiding tumbling Draco with them.

“Here’re your clothes. Nice ones, too, by the way. Fred and George stopped by your place last night and … weeelll, they had to break in, as your better half wasn’t about.” A pile consisting of dark blue trousers, a dove grey silk shirt, and dark blue silk boxers cascaded onto his lap. “Shoes and socks are on the chair, by the door. Toiletries on the sink. I’ll be just outside. The matrons have gone through some changes last I’d been here, and there’s a few new birds to ruffle.” With a jaunty grin and a wave, the red-haired skyscraper was out the door.

Shaking his head, Draco gingerly slid out of bed, in spite of everything clutching his clothes. He could feel his magic was still drained, but, at least he was moving. A few shuffling steps brought him to the sink, and the first good look at himself in four and a half months. What he saw was a thinner than healthy Malfoy with pure white streaks in his blonde hair; faint smudges under both eyes, mere shadows of the broken nose he’d had before he woke up; a slight scar at the outer edge of his right eye; and, finally, the _piece-de-resistance_ , half of his right eye was now hazel green and gold, the other half Malfoy silver. 

The clothes slipped to the floor. He thought back to the day the damn idiots had kidnapped him: It was the 15th of June, a lovely, soft late spring day. He’d been down at the weekday swap that the little old ladies held once a month. Someone had told him he might be able to find something special down there for the new man in his life, as the antiques could be exceptionally fine. No worries, no cares, he’d headed out unsuspecting. It only took minutes, and, somehow they’d beaten him to his wand; after that, using some muggle device, they’d stunned him. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a dark room, blindfolded, and getting the shite beaten out of him. Then came the spells. He was glad he didn’t remember them very well; all he remembered was the pain, and the fact that those didn’t give them what they wanted either. Finally, the voice that rescued him.

“Malfoy! Mate!” Ron’s red hair preceded his voice, just barely. “If you don’t get dressed, ya wanker, your boyfriend will be taking me out tomorrow instead of you.” He stepped into the room to grab Draco’s arm. “What’s wrong? You look worse off than before.”

“I’m…I’m going back…back to bed…” He couldn’t do this yet, not yet. They’d done terrible things to him. He wasn’t the same Draco Malfoy they’d grabbed; he was broken.

Somehow, he found himself bundled up in the blankets, with Ron’s big hands tucking them even more securely around him. He’d never seen the redheaded prat like this. Never, except around Harry Potter. “Shh…’S right. I’ll go get the Man.” He brushed a gentle hand over Draco’s shoulder. “He’ll make you feel better.”

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_“Make me happy, my mythical one…”_

_Draco loved that phrase. It meant he was so close to Heaven!_

_A quickly whispered lubrication charm, and his fingers were dancing at that sweetly puckered entrance. Gently prodding for access, his index finger slid in, then out. His lover’s moans of delight were the catalyst for the addition of another finger, and the beginning of the scissoring motions that would stretch him. The third finger, and some deep stroking that nudged his prostate, brought forth a keening wisp of sound. “Draaaaa….”_

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The murmur of voices near the door woke him from another of his wonderful dreams. Then, _the voice_!!

“Draco, love…” Tender fingertips brushed against his eyelids and cheeks, brushing so very near his lips. “Wake up for me, my mythical one.”

He knew who that voice belonged to…Harry Potter. A sad smile graced Draco’s lips. “They broke me, Potter. How can you even stand to be near me?” It took a great deal to discompose a Malfoy, but the changing of their inherent make-up would do it. “I’m not…I’m not me anymore.” Without opening his eyes, the tears leaked out, squeezed out by his breaking heart.

_**chuckle**_

“Oh, my poor Malfoy!” Harry knew why he was upset. But, he wouldn’t know the full story until the insufferable prat opened his eyes. “Vanity thy essence is Malfoy! Open your bloody eyes, you barmy git!”

Never one to let such an insult go by, Draco slowly opened one eye. Luckily, the other one soon followed. He found himself looking in the green eyes of Harry Potter, the man who he’d gone out shopping for, that June day. The man who now had one eye that was half hazel green and gold, and half Malfoy silver. “How?”

“I’ll tell you if you hoist that lovely arse out of here. You know how much I hate hospitals.” Harry handed him his clothes, stripped off the covers and sat on the bed as soon as Draco had vacated it. “If you go as fast as you can, I may even take you home and have a bit of my wicked way with you…”

After so long in the hands of lunatics, and the not-so-gentle hands of the folks at St. Mungo’s, Draco was once again slowly putting himself together. It had taken him thirty minutes, and that with asking for Harry’s help after the first ten. But, finally, he was walking out of the hospital, on the arm of the man he’d come to love.

“It’s a lovely autumn day in London, my mythical one.” Arm in arm, they stepped out into the sunshine. “Here. These sunglasses will help. And, on our way home I’ll tell you a story about magic and love.” Draco heard both in his beloved’s voice; the voice he would always want to come home to.

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It took two more weeks of potions and gentle touches, with a few soothing whispers of endearments thrown in, to get Draco ready for the story of their changed eyes. In all that time, he’d only just slept with Harry, curled up on his side, or more often than not, on his lover’s chest. He relished the strong heartbeat thumping under his cheek as he fell asleep. During his captivity the only constant noises were boots on the stairs and the screams they pulled out of him.

“It’s a sunny day, Potter love. The lunatics who kidnapped me have been sentenced to Azkaban, after a few modifying charms. So, now, spill! Tell me how you found me, and why I’m not wholly a Malfoy anymore?!” With the return of Draco’s strength came his demanding nature. What he wanted, he wanted right now….

“A cell of Death Eater-wanna-be’s was what they were, Draco.” Harry’s voice never got louder or softer, yet it stuck the side of the still unsteady man’s head like a brick. The Death Eaters should have all been rounded up, exterminated or imprisoned. His fingers were now clawing the strong arm beneath them. Harry was certain he’d have the marks for life, they felt so deep.

“It was a bid to move the money from the upper echelons of Magical Society to the newly disenfranchised purebloods-only scum. Does that lessen your fears?” The brunette understood his boyfriend’s qualms; by using different words, he could direct those fears into easier-to-control channels.

“So, they had nothing to do with the D.E.’s we put away during the war?” Draco had been a first-class operative for the Light until his father caught him and tortured him; he never broke, but his nerves would always be stretched tight without his lover.

“So that explains them. Now, you hero, you! Tell me why we’re sharing an eye!” The not-so-strong blonde angel in Harry’s arms was poking that very pointy right index finger into his left pectoral, viciously!

“There was a curse left over on you, Draco. That’s how they found you; they just tracked the spell’s signature.” He didn’t want to tell the love of his life that the man he’d called ‘father’ had left him one more thing to revile him for. But, he hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor because he took the easy way. “It’s a life-sharing spell, my mythical one,” Harry sighed into that shell-like ear next to him.

Draco’s head fell onto Harry’s shoulder. A life-sharing spell usually killed one or both of the people involved. “So, why are we still alive?” Draco had to work hard to whisper those words; he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We’re alive because there’s a loop-hole, lover!” The cheesy grin on the brunette’s face was so big that the ends could have been tied into a bow behind his head. “A true love that willingly submits breaks the killing portion of the spell, but, there has to some kind of exchange. Since you were dead to the world…I figured this wouldn’t be that bad…It’s not that bad, is it?”

For such a brave, strong wizard, Harry Potter turned to mush when it came to the love of his life. He’d spent four months staking out rat-holes, buying information, all so that he could once again hold the man now in his arms. Would the sharing of an eye-color be all right?

“So, you’re saying you’re my true love? And, that you love me enough to sacrifice something for me? And, that no one else in the world is like us?” All the words thrummed through Harry’s neck. When he nodded once more, he felt the smile on Draco’s face.

“Good! I always hated to run with the common herd!”

Draco lifted his head up to look the man who loved him so much; he never gave up on him. The kiss he leaned into started out soft, a reintroduction so-to-speak, but, after that lip-handshake, the tongues came out to play, and the moans struck up the band. There, on a busy Mayfair street, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy let everyone know just how glad they were to love each other.

“Take me home, Harry…I have a few dreams I want to make real…”

Looking for a shady alley, Harry pulled his lover beside himself, and apparated back to their flat. Tonight they’d celebrate their reunion in the comfort of their own bed… And, Draco would find out they also shared a tattoo, in a most interesting place…Lucky Harry!

~~~ FINIS ~~~

~§¤§~

_~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.  
Thank you for reading. ~~~_


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